


Twelve Days

by AvaKelly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 12 Days of Winterhawk, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Themed, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Dads AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Single Dads AU for the 12 Days of Winterhawk 2015 Challenge.</p><p>Details <a href="http://helterskelterxo.tumblr.com/post/135154477724">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tree [Dec 15th]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! o/
> 
> Remember [this](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com/post/135212020452/omg-so-like-i-just-saw-that-12-days-of)? Well, I'm doing it, as promised. I'm a little behind with the days, but I hope I'll catch up soon enough. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

Ever since moving here, Bucky hasn't had much time for doing things like exploring the neighboring suburb, or the commercial areas, or even pinpoint various services that one might need, like the best local dentist. Between finding a house to rent and enrolling Stevie in school, he hasn't even managed to get a general gist of the place. He's not even sure where exactly the post office is. It had been a rushed move, but it's ultimately for the best, a safer area for Stevie to grow up in, a better pay for him to make sure his little boy gets everything he needs.

That's why he's currently engaged in the most ridiculous tug war possible with a local over a goddamn Christmas tree. It's only two left in the lot, and the other one looks more like a collection of twigs barely standing up. Bucky berates himself for postponing tree shopping so much. It's already December 15th and Stevie's been asking about it. Bucky will be so fucked if he can't get this tree, especially since Stevie gets particularly sad around the winter holidays, but all because Bucky gets too miserable to hide.

So he pulls again, glaring at the guy gripping the other end of the tree. If he breaks off the tip, Bucky's going to shove the entire thing up his a--

"Let go already!" the guy says. He's shorter than Bucky, sandy blond hair sticking up every which way, blue eyes that under the colorful lights hanging around the already darkening lot seem almost purple.

"Not a fucking chance," Bucky grits back. He's not going to give this up, not when Stevie's already started to look at Bucky with that concerned look that reminds him of-- he stops himself, shakes his head. After all these years, it still brings tears to his eyes, and he doesn't want to bawl in front of this stranger. But it's useless, he's already thinking about it, the empty place at the table, the unopened present he and Stevie still buy each year, and then no tree to put it under. "Please," he adds, more subdued. "My little boy needs this, we lost m-m-my..." he trips over the word, why the hell is he getting shy now, "my partner, six years ago on Christmas, please."

The guy lets go of the tree as if burned. And he stands there, wide eyed, open mouthed, staring at Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, and hurries off, hauling the tree away, before the guy can change his mind.

~

Clint shudders, more from the goosebumps forming all over his skin than from the cold. The way this guy had stammered, the way his eyes glazed over in the winter air, it left him speechless, but his surprise has soon turned into the pain that comes with knowing your best someone is gone, particularly if they went around Christmas.

He sighs, rubbing his forehead, and eyes the single tree that is left in the lot. He knows Nat won't care, she's such a good kid... so much like her mother, that Clint's heart twist in his chest. Natasha has been gone for six years and he's still missing her terribly. Nat does, too, even though her recollection is a bit vague, and she's already told Clint she's going to change her name from Natalia to Natasha when she grows up, in her memory. Clint had cried for hours that night.

He wipes at his eyes, already feeling wetness pool in them.

Tasha had always loved big, thick, dark green trees, filled to the brim with the most awkward handmade ornaments possible, all their collected boxes going up in the tree every year. He's been making new ones, of paper and glitter, with Nat, trying to keep the tradition alive. The tree left over won't be able to hold everything up, and Clint will bawl over it, which will concern Nat. Did he mention she's a good kid? She's awesome, his little Nat.

So he pulls out his phone, calls his boss at the range to beg for a day off tomorrow. He has to promise a month of unpaid overtime in February, and he fucking hates how every single teenager in a three school districts radius wants to suddenly learn archery on Valentine's, but he'd rather do that than not have this thing with Nat. It's one of the few traditions Tasha'd started, and Clint needs it. He draws a quick route in his head, planning to drive as far out as needed to find a good tree, and by the time he gets home, he's smiling again.

"Hey, Red," he calls after he pays the babysitter. "Had a good time today?"

"Daddy!" Nat looks up from where she's doing her homework at the coffee table in the living room. "Ms. Potts said we can build snowmans tomorrow in the yard," she says while running toward Clint.

He's been expecting this. It had snowed a couple of days ago, and it's caught on, covering everything in a nice layers of white. Not enough to hinder traffic, but enough to let the kids enjoy themselves.

"Yeah?" Clint picks her up, smooches her cheek and is rewarded by a set of giggles.

"Yes!" she nods, her red curls bouncing around. "We need carrots, and coal and sticks and a pot."

"Coal?" Clint asks, "and a pot?"

"For the hat, daddy," she rolls her green eyes.

"Fine, fine, we'll find a pot."

"And we'll work in pairs, and win a prize, and you have to come watch, please please please," she continues pointing at a carefully folded piece of paper sticking out of her backpack.

It's an invitation for parent participation around noon. If Clint finds a tree quickly, he'll make it. Hell, if he can't find a tree, he'll still fucking make it. Nick's going to have his ass on Easter, too, but he's prepared to beg the day after tomorrow off as well.

"Okay, okay," he smiles and sets her down, "now go wash up for dinner."

"First grade is so awesoooooooooome," she runs, arms spread wide.

"Where'd you learn that word?" Clint laughs. A shriek follows from the bathroom.

"What now?" he asks.

"A spider! Can we keep it?"

~


	2. Snowman [Dec 16th]

Bucky surveys the school yard, looking for the blond mop of hair that he associates with his son. Moving Stevie here, he's been worried about how he'd integrate, but ever since the first day of school, Stevie'd come back home talking about Nat this and Nat that and how she'll be his best friend forever and ever and they'll be each other's maids of honor at their weddings when they grow up. It had made Bucky laugh so freely, that it felt like a first in a very long time.

He hasn't met little Nat yet, though, hasn't had time to set up a play date with Nat's parents. Work has been demanding, his new publisher quite strict in deadlines. Bucky still wonders how he's gotten to this point in which being a ghost writer is something he enjoys doing all day. Truth is, it's quite refreshing to immerse himself in the adventures and lives of others. And he loves writing. He doesn't need the fame or the name recognition, and every new client of the publisher is a whole different challenge. So yes, he's quite happy with his situation. The only thing that's missing is a big family, like Steve had wanted, but Steve's not here anymore, and Bucky feels his absence heavily in his heart.

"Mr. Barnes," comes from the side, and Bucky turns to see Stevie's teacher walking over, another man following closely behind her. They're entirely contrasting, her strict demeanor and his bohemian appearance. "This is Mr. Stark," she says with a smile, and Bucky's already figured out her stern presence is just a facade, her gentleness never wavering, especially towards the children, "our second grade teacher."

"Call me Tony," the man says, extending his hand. Bucky barely has time to grip it before a kid runs into the teacher's legs.

"Toooony," the little boy whines, "Anna took my carrot."

"Oh, that's not nice," he takes the kid's hand, walks off entirely too absorbed by their conversation to even say goodbye.

"He spoils them too much," Stevie's teacher says.

Bucky shakes his head before turning back to her. It would be impossible not to spoil these children if he were in Tony's shoes. "It's good to see you again, Ms. Potts," he says.

"Psh, it's Pepper," she waves, "only the kids call me Ms. Potts," and Bucky nods. "Ah! There's Nat's father," she continues before he has a chance to return the courtesy, and Bucky follows her line of sight. "Clint," she waves a man over, breath visible in the crisp cold of the day, "this is Mr. Barnes, Stevie's dad."

Great.

Just great.

It's the guy from last night, with the tree. Bucky wants to run fast and hide.

"Clint Barton," the man says, hand extended, and Bucky has no choice but to shake it.

"James Barnes," he offers. Ugh, what's he trying to do using his entire name, it's not like he doesn't go by Bucky everywhere. Bucky sighs internally.

"Well, surprise," Barton says.

Next to them, Pepper is being called away, and now Bucky stands there awkwardly trying to think of something to say.

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

And two running bundles smash into them.

Nat and Stevie talk a mile a minute, most of which is about how they're going to win first prize, that not even the second graders can stop them, 'cos they have the best plan ever, and Stevie's even done a drawing and Nat has the reddest pot of all the pots of all the other kids.

But they're gone too soon, and Bucky finds himself standing in awkward silence as they watch the running, screaming, snow covered chaos that is the courtyard. Stevie dumps a fistful of snow right on top of Nat's hat, making it flake off over her curls, and Bucky's mouth is already half open to tell him it's not nice, when he hears laughter coming from Barton.

"Your son's a great kid," he says between chuckles. "Nat loves snow so much, and she hasn't had a friend to play with her. I'm really happy she's got one now."

Bucky has to swallow around the lump that's suddenly formed in his throat.

"He shouldn't throw snow on her like that," he manages, hiding his embarrassment behind a frown.

Barton snorts. Like on cue, Nat trips Stevie, and she sits on him, her handful of snow going right over his face. Stevie laughs with so much glee, it makes Bucky smile.

"I take that back," Bucky says.

Next to him, Barton laughs harder. "They're best bros already." But then he sobers up, looks at Bucky with seriousness. "Get him hot tea at home, the blue box one they sell at Harmony's down on Hall Lane, and half a baby paracetamol. 's gonna prevent the sore throat from swallowing all that snow. A spoon of honey tonight and orange juice in the morning. Foolproof."

The lump in Bucky's throat is back, and he nods. This guy is too nice for how Bucky's treated him.

"Sorry I took your tree," he says.

Barton is surprised, but then he waves. "It's fine, I'll drive around tomorrow, see if I can find another."

"Let me help," Bucky offers, and what the hell is he doing. He has a deadline to meet tomorrow evening. If he plans on being away, he needs to spend all night tonight writing, and he's not twenty anymore.

Barton insists it's fine, Bucky insists to go, and only when he admits to not knowing the region, adding that the trip will help, does Barton relent.

It's going to be interesting to say the least, Bucky thinks and he watches Barton from the corner of his eye. He should get to know the man anyway, seeing how Stevie and Nat are so good for each other, wide smiles on their faces, with the tallest snowman in the yard, even though they're amongst the tiniest kids.

~


	3. Snowball Fight [Dec 17th]

Clint watches Nat as she runs toward the school entrance, dragging Stevie after her. In the parking lot, a few places over, he sees James doing the same and Clint waves him over. He's tall, broad shoulders, with messy dark hair that falls down to his shoulders, sparkling blue irises under thick eyelashes. He's sporting stubble today, and he must have skipped the morning shave, because yesterday his cheeks were smooth and rosy from the cold. And that's when Clint notices the dark circles under his eyes, the way James yawns too heavily into his palm.

"Morning," he says and extends the to-go cup he's brought over.

James blinks at him, but accepts the drink with a 'thanks' that turns into raised eyebrows after he takes a sip.

"Well, it's not coffee," Clint laughs, "if that's what you were expecting."

"Hot chocolate's good, too," James smiles sleepily.

"What'd you do, been up all night?"

"Yeah, had some work," James rubs a hand over his face with a sigh.

Clint nods at that, and they climb inside the car. He's already lowered the back seat to make room for the tree, and Clint doesn't want it too tall, just a wide thick one that Nat can reach the top of from a foot stool. She's growing up faster than he can get used to lately.

The first ten minutes are spent in silence as Clint makes his way out of the suburb, and soon they're heading toward the hills and the few towns that are likely to still have good trees left. The conversation starts easily about their jobs, then about the kids, and mundane little things. Clint finds himself comfortably chatting away about small nothings, and he's missed this terribly, just having someone to listen and commiserate and exchange parenting experiences with. They stop for lunch at an out of the way diner Clint knows a couple of towns over, and they find the perfect tree just as afternoon starts rolling over.

The day is pleasant and warming Clint into his bones, so when he draws near Pine Ridge, he stops the car in the small parking space to the side of the road. This is the best view of the valley from the south, and it shows their neighborhood, the skyscrapers of the city blurry in the distance. It's sunny outside, the snow stretching brightly between the dark green of the pine trees below them, and James lets out a low whistle as he stops next to Clint near the half wall that runs along the edge of the hill.

"This is beautiful," James says and Clint nods. Silence stretches for a few moments, and when James speaks again, his words are quiet and raspy. "My husband used to draw things like this."

Clint runs his fingers through the snow on the top of the wall with an understanding nod. Sometimes, innocuous things still remind him so viscerally of Tasha, that it chokes him.

"Are you married?" comes next, and it pulls a huff out of Clint.

"She'd dead," he says. "Six years ago."

And he can feel the burn of James' eyes into the side of his head as the snow cools his fingers, reddening the skin of Clint's hand. He takes a deep breath. Enough of that, today's been fun so far, and Clint doesn't want bitterness spoiling it. Better yet, he'd rather honor the memories of those lost by living the way they'd hoped. Clint's quite sure James' husband wouldn't want him sad, just as Natasha wouldn't want Clint moping.

He's already been kneading a snowball together, and the surprised swear James lets out when it hits the side of his head is hilarious. He's standing there, glaring from under the melting snowflakes, that for half a second Clint thinks maybe he's crossed a line. But then James is moving with purpose, and Clint turns away just in time from the incoming snowball.

Clint hasn't had a snow fight like this since he was a teenager and Pepper had kicked Tony's ass in the school parking lot. He's covered in snow head to toe in less than ten minutes, but he gives as good as he gets. Their cheeks are cold, fingers frozen, but they're both laughing like idiots.

~

Bucky's cheeks ache pleasantly. He hasn't smiled this much in a very long time. He's cold, freezing even, the tips of his hair are wet and his fingers hurt from the snow, but he's so full of mirth, that it makes him float. Clint removes his coat to shake the snow off before hanging it on the back of his seat, and Bucky follows suit, takes his wet hat off as well.

"School's out in two hours," he says, eying the board clock after they climb back in the car.

"I'll get us there in time, no worries," Clint replies, and it shouldn't be so baffling that Clint understands, really gets it, how it is to have your entire world centered around the life of a child.

Bucky had been beyond surprised by Clint's admission, the six years between losing Steve and this particular moment weighing heavily on his shoulders, but it just made him feel even more connected to Clint. That first snowball had been exactly what Bucky'd needed, and he's grateful for it.

He turns a smile at Clint, pulling on the tangled tips of his hair with a wince.

"You didn't comb your hair this morning, did you?" Clint laughs as he buckles in.

Bucky offers a non-committal grunt. He's not gonna admit forgetting his hair in his hurry to get to the school. Instead, he sticks his fingers further into the strands, and that's a mistake, because he ends up pulling too hard.

With another chuckle, Clint grips his wrist, draws Bucky's hand away. "Let me help," he says. Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Got a girl," Clint adds as explanation.

His fingers are nimble and sure as he works the knots free, and Bucky finds himself floating again somewhere between the gentleness of Clint's touch and the way the tip of his tongue is sticking out from between his lips.

Oh. Oh, no.

Bucky has a crush on the guy. He barely knows Clint, but he's already liking him too much, liking this a lot. Worse, Bucky thinks Steve would like Clint, too, very much so, would approve.

He takes a deep breath as they turn back towards the road, and he listens to Clint humming under his breath all the way back, enjoying the thrum of comfort that settles under his skin.

~


	4. Skating [Dec 18th]

"Come on, dad," Stevie whines, stomping his skates, as Bucky pulls the blue scarf tighter around Stevie's neck.

The skating rink is covered, but not entirely closed off, and the space is a bit windy. Everywhere kids are running around while parents are chatting on the side, hot drinks steaming in their hands. It's already dark outside, colorful lights hanging around the place in bunches, illuminating the ice in various shades.

A loud shriek comes from the side, and Bucky looks toward its origin to be met with the slow blink of Nat's big green eyes, right above her round cheeks. When the hell did she get that close, Bucky can't tell.

"Hello James," Clint says from behind her, and Bucky looks up from where he's crouching in front of Stevie.

"Hello James," Nat parrots, eyes studying him with an intensity that seven year olds don't usually display.

"Hello," Bucky offers with a small wave Clint's way. "But call me Bucky."

"Bucky," Nat squints her eyes and Bucky wants to squirm. Ah, hell, waiting for approval from a child... his stomach flops under her gaze.

But then she smiles, eyes sparkling. "Funny," she says. Bucky grins at her.

"I though your name was Nat," he returns with a pinch to her cheek and she giggles.

Next to them, Stevie steeples his hands together, looking up at Clint expectingly. Clint matches his position and stares right back. Seconds stretch, Nat's forehead slowly wrinkling in a frown.

"Daddy's only funny after he wakes up," she says, crossing her arms. "He walks into stuff and can't speak."

"Natalia!" Clint gasps, and James laughs. "You can call me Clint," he tells Stevie then, extending his hand.

It takes a few seconds, but then Stevie nods at him seriously, grips Clint's hand by two fingers, and shakes as widely as he can. James' heart rabbits in his chest with the need for Stevie to like Clint, that he has to roll his eyes at himself internally. He's getting way ahead of himself, for fuck's sake. He's not a teenager anymore.

With drawn out promises to be careful and extended whining from the kids, they finally let Nat and Stevie off onto the ice, and Bucky brings them hot chocolate before they settle down on a bench to watch.

It's the forth time in just as many days that he runs into Clint, and Bucky can't help but wish this will keep happening.

"Bucky, huh?" Clint says with half a smirk after a while.

"Short for Buchanan," Bucky rolls his eyes.

"How'd you end up with that one?"

It's bittersweet, the memory invading him for a second. "Steve gave it to me in kindergarten. My husband," he adds as explanation and Clint lets out a huff.

"Lifetime friends, huh?"

"Yeah," Bucky draws in a long inhale.

"Natasha and I were the proverbial enemies right until we finished high school. We had the same friends, but that didn't stop us from pranking each other all the time."

Bucky can imagine that and he smiles at Clint. "She won all the time, didn't she?"

With a laugh, Clint nods. "Pepper, her bestie," he says, "told me at graduation that that was her way of pulling my proverbial pigtails, and that she had our wedding already planned for almost a year, so I should pull my head out of my ass."

"Steve and I were best friends," Bucky offers. "And one day, out of the blue, he proposes," he lifts his hands with a shrug when Clint raises an eyebrow. "We hadn't even kissed at that point."

The smile Clint gives him is warm and it makes the corners of his eyes wrinkle. "Oblivious much?"

It's Bucky's turn to laugh, and he bumps Clint's shoulder with his own. "Kettle, pot."

It doesn't hurt, talking about Steve with Clint. It feels like sharing a piece of pie on sunny mornings, just like he used to with Steve. And when Clint goes to get their cups refilled, Bucky closes his eyes, sends his thoughts to Steve, wishing for his blessing in opening his heart to another.

~

Nat spins around Stevie, unable to take her eyes away from her daddy's smile. It's the first time she sees him do that with someone other than her.

"Wha'cha looking at?" Stevie asks as he slides next to her.

"Daddy's laughing," she sighs.

"Dad too," he says. "Hope he won't be sad again."

Nat frowns. Daddy's sad all the time, and it feels super bad when he's crying, hurts like when she got that cold when she was littleler. "Me too," she bites her lips. "Your dad has pretty hair."

Stevie grins. "He forgets to comb it and says bad words after. Said papa used to ah--un--untlang it."

"Untingle!"

"I don't think that's right," Stevie raises both eyebrows and Nat giggles.

"I forgot it."

"Me too."

Nat twists to avoid a group of skaters and Stevie follows her smoothly. Nobody can keep up with her except for Stevie and she loves him almost as much as she loves daddy.

"Do you remember your papa?" she asks.

Stevie shakes his head.

"I don't remember mommy, either."

"We look at pictures on Christmas, with papa and mommy, and dad says I look like them."

Nat lets out a big sigh and takes Stevie's hand.

"'s why dad's sad all the time," Stevie says, eyes fixated on the ice, and Nat circles him, spinning them around until they're in the middle of the rink.

When she lets go, Stevie blinks fast, swaying, and he flops down on the ice.

"Dizzy zombie," she shouts, and Stevie giggles back.

"Think they'll get married?" Stevie asks, wistful face turned towards their dads.

"Yes!" Nat claps her hands. Stevie has the best ideas. "We'll be brothers," she cackles.

Stevie raises his arms from where he's sitting, big grin on his face. "And they'll smile for ever!"

"We should help them," Nat adds, a finger raised pointedly. She likes it best when daddy's happy.

~

Bucky watches their kids with increasing apprehension as they keep talking right in the middle of the skating rink, Stevie sitting on the ice and Nat waving her little hands around. They're both stealing long glances at him and Clint before turning back to each other.

"That doesn't bode well," he comments.

"All we can do is brace for it," Clint says with an amused huff.

"Any idea what they're cooking up?"

"I'm afraid to think about it."

Bucky laughs.

~


	5. Shopping for Presents [Dec 19th]

Everywhere he turns, Clint can't seem to stop running into James. No, wait, he goes by Bucky, and Clint smiles to himself. Bucky is so easy to talk to, that Clint feels like he's known him all his life. Which is ridiculous, but here he is anyway. He runs after Nat as she shrieks yet again at the sight of Stevie. The street is vibrant this time of the morning, plenty shoppers milling about for presents.

"We meet again," he laughs.

"Starcrossed dads," Bucky grins and Clint laughs harder.

"That's an awful pun," he manages.

"Yeah," comes back next.

Stevie tugs at Clint's sleeve. "Hello Mr. Clint, are you coming with us? Can they come with us, dad? Please, dad, they have to, we're shopping for presents, you gotta come," and doesn't the kid need to breathe?

Clint squints his eyes at the way Nat is nudging Stevie with her elbow, and when she notices Clint looking, she snatches her arms away to hide her hands behind her back. What are these two up to?

"Well, Mr. Clint?" Bucky asks, amused smile dancing on his face, and Clint can't stop matching it.

"Sure," he says, and it's met with twin screeches.

They stroll around in and out of stores, searching for presents. At one point, Nat pulls Clint aside asking to get Stevie and Bucky presents, and Bucky confirms getting the same request. They negotiate what would fall under the category of things they'll let the kids choose, and they decide anything up to those horrific Christmas sweaters is fine.

They're in a knitted items shop when Nat and Stevie come their way, huddled together with serious faces.

"We decided," Nat says waving a hand in front of her.

Clint follows them to the glass case the kids have been looking into, Bucky close on his heels. It's full of gloves of various colors and sizes and shapes.

"We want those for my mommy," Nat points, "and those for Stevie's mommy."

"And those for papa," Stevie adds.

Clint's inhale is too sharp and it hurts as it goes down through his chest. Next to him, Bucky is perfectly still, eyes wide. Clint doesn't know what to say.

"That's a great choice, baby," Bucky finally says, crouching down to their level.

"'m not a baby," Stevie returns, while Nat says "he's not a baby," hands fisted in her hips.

Clint laughs, just as Bucky laughs, and then Bucky's eyes catch Clint's. The same rawness that sometimes still washes over Clint unawares is in them as well, and Clint pets the top of Bucky's head before he realizes what he's doing. But Bucky doesn't shake him off, and Clint smiles at him while Bucky asks details about the gloves they've chosen.

It's two more pairs the kids want to buy, so they each secretively ask their respective dads, not inconspicuously, not at all, and Clint exchanges amused looks with Bucky over their heads. It's fun, and it returns the pleasant warmness from yesterday into Clint's bones.

~

Bucky brushes snow off before sitting heavily on the cold park bench, dropping the shopping bags he's amassed next to him, and Clint joins him. In front of them, Stevie and Nat are running in circles one after the other, arms spread wide.

"I'm a bird," Stevie says.

"I'm a dragon," Nat cackles.

"That's not fair!"

"So, he's not biologically yours," Clint's voice pulls his attention away from the kids, and Bucky startles a little.

"No," he says with a head shake, "but that doesn't make a difference."

"Sorry, didn't mean to imply that," comes next, quietly.

Bucky looks at Clint then, and is met with concern. "Nah, it's fine. Don't worry," he pats Clint's arm with a smile. "We had a dear friend, Peggy," he says, taking a deep breath, "and she really wanted to leave a child in the world."

Clint's eyebrows knit in a frown.

"The docs gave her two years, but she was gone a couple of weeks before Stevie was due," he kneads his hands together as he leans his elbows on his knees, "they had to do an emergency c-section."

He's met with silence, Clint's face set grimly, but then a warm hand comes to rub at his back and Bucky feels it burning all the way into the middle of his chest.

"Stevie was in the hospital for months," he continues, and this time the words flow easily, "and we had no idea if he was gonna survive or not. In the meantime, Steve had to go back to work, because between the funeral and the bills, we really needed the money. He was flying home from a security detail right in time for Christmas. They called me from the hospital with good news, and then the police called me to tell me his plane went down."

Bucky gasps with this, drawing air in his too tight chest, and the palm on his back presses firmly.

"I haven't told Stevie the exact day yet," he pushes. "Wanna wait for him to grow up a bit."

"Did the same with Nat," Clint says quietly. "When is it?"

"Day after tomorrow," he rasps, and the hand on his back shakes.

"Flight S3074?" comes back small and wobbly.

How did Clint... oh, fuck.

"Yeah," he nods just as Clint's hand slides off, and Bucky catches it, grips tightly.

"Look, daddy," Nat shouts, holding a red and frozen leaf up by its stem. "It's like my hair!"

It takes a second, but Clint squeezes just as much in return.

"That's great, sweetheart," Clint says, forcing a smile.

Nat's appeased, and she skips over to where Stevie's examining the roots of a tree sticking out from under the snow.

"I fucking hate that plane," Clint grits.

"I know."

"I hate it like I've never hated anything in my entire life."

"I know," Bucky whispers again.

~

They're on their way back to the cars when Nat stops in front of a large poster between two shop windows.

"Daddy, it's Santa," she pulls at Clint's hand, and he's too numb right now.

Sharing the pain of the loss, sharing that day with Bucky has left him aching and feeling comforted all at the same time. It's confusing.

"Can we go?" Nat looks up at him, eyes pleading.

The ad proclaims a traveling Santa scheduled to stop by at the local mall, and it looks like a professional set up, with a house and the elves, and too much candy. It would be a fun experience for Nat, but tomorrow is the last day.

"Can we, please," Stevie adds as he huddles close to Nat.

"I'm sorry, Red," Clint pats her head, "daddy's gotta work," and he braces himself for the disappointed face she's about to make. She never whines, never cries when Clint says no, but her chagrin is so visible on her face, that it twists Clint's heart more than any tantrum tears could.

"I'll take them," Bucky says. "I already finished all my work, and I'm free until after New Year's, unless something unexpected pops up."

Nat shrieks with renewed vigor and Stevie jumps before hugging Bucky's middle.

"I mean, if you don't mind me watching her," Bucky adds, subdued, and Clint's eyebrows go up.

He trusts Bucky with Nat, he realizes, even though he hasn't known the man for too long. But the way Pepper's been singing his praises since September, Clint already feels safe around him.

"Sure, I trust you," he says.

The smile Bucky gives him fills his belly with butterflies and Clint startles. Aw, Clint you idiot. Don't fall for the hot dad, he berates himself, and he can already imagine Tasha laughing at him. But he's sure she'd like Bucky, they're a lot alike, him and Tash, eyes alive and comfort at the ready.

~


	6. Mall Santa [Dec 20th]

Bucky doesn't like malls all that much. They're loud, too bright, too crowded, too distracting. So he holds onto the small hands of the kids a little too tightly, but he's not going to risk losing them in the chaos. He counts himself lucky when they both walk as close to him as possible until they reach the North Pole exhibition area.

He buys them tickets before he brings them inside. It's a bunch of Christmas themed elf houses with toys and various candy. He's already established a three item limit with both Nat and Stevie before going inside, and he lets them roam around a little more freely. They each get candy, all different, "so we can share and try them all, dad," and Bucky smiles at them.

But when it's time to stand in line for Santa, both of them insist they're big enough to wait alone, and Bucky sticks to the side with other carefully watching parents. There's security everywhere, cameras blinking in the corners of the makeshift elf houses, and Bucky lets himself relax a bit.

"Wave for daddy, Nat," he says and snaps a pic with his phone of a widely grinning Nat, Stevie just as happy next to her.

He texts the shot to Clint, and gets an enthusiastic 'have fun' in return. So he keeps his eyes on the kids and himself busy with snapping stills of them, smile firmly set on his lips.

~

"Did you see?" Nat hisses at Stevie as they're finally alone in line. "They held hands."

"Uhuh," Stevie nods, eyes wide. Dad's been singing to himself, too. "You think they'll smooch, soon?"

Nat chews on her lips. Nat knows everything. She's so smart, and Stevie loves her a lot.

With a gasp, Nat points behind him. "We need that."

Stevie agrees. People always smooch under the misty toe.

~

"Mi-stle-toe," Bucky pronounces carefully, and waits for Stevie to repeat before he raises an eyebrow at Nat.

She pouts, crosses her arms, but repeats until she gets it right.

"Can we get some mi-stle-toe now, Mr. Bucky?" Nat asks, blinking slowly at him.

"Why do you need it anyway?"

"We need it," Stevie interjects, chin jutted out and Bucky already knows it's a lost fight.

"Ok, ok," he raises his palms. "We'll stop by the market on the way back." He's rewarded with matching grins and joyous thank you's. "So what did you ask from Santa?"

"That's a secret," Stevie rolls his eyes, and Nat already makes the same gesture.

Bucky wonders just how much these two will grow up to be a pain in his and Clint's asses. He can already imagine their teenage years, and he eyes their innocent little faces warily.

~

Bucky calls Clint as they make their way toward the car in the parking lot, and Clint begs for more time because he can't get away from his job. Apparently going tree hunting in the middle of the week has its price, and Bucky feels a little guilty about getting that tree. So he assures Clint again that he's free to watch over Nat, takes them home to feed them. The mystery of the mistletoe remains unsolved even after he tucks them in, even after the story with the traveling squirrel that Stevie insists he start all over because Nat must hear it, too.

It's almost ten when Clint knocks at the front door. He's covered in frozen bits of snow, the wind that had started about an hour ago blowing strong enough to shift snowflakes off the trees. Clint apologizes, Bucky says it's fine, and they repeat the exchange twice more by the time they reach the door to Stevie's room upstairs.

"I'll wake her," Clint whispers with a deep sigh, shoulders slumping.

Bucky catches his arm before he can move further inside. "Why don't you let her sleep? Stay here tonight."

Clint blinks at him, indecision visible on his pale face. He looks so tired, Bucky's not sure how he was able to drive here. A beat, and Clint's stomach growls loudly enough to startle them both.

"I'll even feed you," Bucky adds with a smile, but Clint just rubs at his eyes with a groan. "Come on," he tries again, "you look too tired to drive, I'm not letting you go like that."

"I'm fine," Clint starts with a blink under his raised eyebrows, but then he sighs again, leans heavily into the door frame. "If it's ok with you..."

Bucky's smile is too wide to contain, and he waves toward the stairs. "Got some leftovers from dinner."

"Actually," Clint straightens with a grunt, "I could really use a hot shower first, 'm fucking freezing."

With a 'follow me' gesture, Bucky leads Clint into his bedroom, he's got a bigger bathroom through there than the one Nat uses. He pulls out towels on the way, dropping them in Clint's arms, then sweats, a t-shirt and the thickest hoodie he owns, along with his warmest socks.

Clint raises an eyebrow at him, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just take the clothes," he says, "make yourself comfortable."

The small smile and the 'thanks' he gets in return are warming his cheeks, and Bucky hurries off.

He's dishing out the leftover risotto on a plate when Clint trudges in. His skin is red from the water, hair damp, sleeves too long and the hems of the pants rolled up around his ankles. He looks like he fits right there, in Bucky's clothes, in Bucky's kitchen, in Bucky's life... and Bucky wants, he wishes for Clint and Nat to fill up the empty spaces around him and Stevie.

He takes a deep breath, considering, watching Clint as he eats. He'll ask Clint out after the holidays. That will give him enough time to figure out if Clint would be interested. Fuck, he doesn't even know if Clint is ready to try with another, what the hell is Bucky thinking.

"What's with the mistletoe?" Clint asks around a bite, pointing at the huge bunch resting on the edge of the counter, and pulling Bucky out of his thoughts.

"Ask the kids," he says with a head shake.

"That bad, huh?"

"They insisted. For at least an hour. Then again on the way to the market," Bucky leans back into his chair. "They're cooking something."

Clint snorts. "How badly do we wanna know?"

Bucky rubs at his chin. "I just say let them do their thing, they sure seem to have fun with it."

The smile that crinkles the corners of Clint's eyes is back, and Bucky's heart gives a pleasant twinge.

~

"Where's your sofa?" Clint asks, surveying the almost empty living room. Aside from a computer desk in the corner and the yet unadorned tree, there's just a coffee table in the middle of the space, with a few pillows thrown around it, but the shelves that line the entire far wall are filled to the brim with books, papers, boxes and toys.

"Uh..." Bucky scratches his head. "I haven't had time to buy one?" he winces apologetically.

Clint gives him a pointed look.

"You can have my bed, I'll sleep on the floor," comes next, and hell, Clint hasn't even thought of that.

The warmth of the shower, the meal, the smell of Bucky's clothes, they've all been screaming of home and family, and Clint's tired brain had gone with it without question. He doesn't know what exactly he's been expecting, just wanting to continue floating in this comfort, but he won't let Bucky sleep on the floor because of him.

"I think your bed's big enough for two grown adults," Clint counters.

They bicker about it all the way to the bedroom, but then Bucky slides in on the other side, pulling the comforter around them both, and Clint suddenly loses all the tension of the day. He drifts off with a sweet tightness twirling in his chest, hand wrapped around Bucky's arm.

He dreams of Tasha, lying next to him while she was pregnant, kissing his forehead with small pecks. They'd promised each other, like they did on every New Year's, that they'll still try for happiness if the other was gone. And now Tasha smiles at him, kissing his lips, and tells him 'good luck,' and 'don't be and idiot,' and 'I love you.'

~


	7. Blizzard [Dec 21st]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I really know nothing about kids. If they feel off, well, just imagine them of a different age if you want! *hides under blanket*

It's been a while since Bucky has woken up with someone in his bed. Since about a year ago, Stevie would crawl up in the middle of the night to sleep on his chest, but then he's decided he's too big to do that anymore. Bucky smiles at the serious face his kid has given him when explaining that 'daddy, I'm a big boy now.' The start of school has turned 'daddy' into 'dad' and sometimes Bucky feels like Stevie's growing up too fast to keep up.

He blinks against the dim morning light. Clint is sleeping in an awkward curl of limbs, but his hand is warm on Bucky's arm. Bucky doesn't even remember falling asleep, and by the way his back gives a twinge, he hasn't even turned once during the night. He's drowsy, but content, a sort of warmth that is beyond the one given by the comforter settling in his bones.

A thump comes from across the hall in Stevie's room, then a muffled shriek, followed by the patter of running feet, a loud set of giggles, and another shriek before the sounds travel downstairs.

"Aw, Nat, no," Clint mutters, twisting to shove his head under the pillow.

Bucky's laughter feels so damn good coming out of his chest, that he doesn't bother keeping it quiet, and it makes Clint groan. He leans over, squeezes Clint's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, I'll get them breakfast."

"You're the best," comes from under the pillow.

~

Clint stumbles in just as the kids run off to brush their teeth, literally stumbles, first into the door frame, and then manages to tangle himself in the legs of a chair before sitting down. Bucky slides a mug of coffee in front of him and is rewarded with a sound that's more of a grunt than an actual word.

He smiles to himself as he clears the table, and for a while only the soft clatter of dishes as Bucky washes them breaks the quiet settled over the kitchen.

"What the fu--ah, hell!"

Clint must have finally noticed the blizzard going on in full force outside.

"I know," Bucky says, following Clint's gaze toward to window.

"I'm dreaming," Clint says, laying his head on the table.

It makes Bucky huff with laughter. "Breakfast?"

Clint rolls his head to blink sleepily at Bucky. "If you keep feeding me, I might never leave," he says with a grin, but his face falls immediately after, and he raises his head. "Aw, blizzard... you're stuck with us until it passes. Sorry, you must've had plans today."

Bucky's already shaking his head and waving a hand. "No, no, it's good." He's actually happy they're stuck here for a little while longer. It's starting to really feel like Christmas this year, and Bucky's reluctant to be on his own again. Speaking of... he draws a deep breath. "I was actually wondering if you've got plans tomorrow?" he asks quietly.

Clint stares at him for too long seconds, and Bucky turns away to whip up eggs for them.

"I don't wanna spoil Nat's Christmas, so we usually go to the cemetery after New Year's," Clint finally says, and the tension in Bucky's shoulders dissipates. "Tomorrow we'll just do the usual stuff. Actually, I think we'll put up the tree. Was supposed to do that today, but blizzard," Clint finishes with a pointed look outside just as Bucky turns back to him after dumping the eggs in a pan.

"We can decorate ours today," he offers.

Clint smiles against the rim of the mug as he takes another sip. "Sure." But he ends up watching Bucky with a growing questioning look on his face, and Bucky has a pretty good idea what's it about.

"Peggy's buried in England with her family, Steve's cremated. When Stevie's old enough, we'll take a trip to spread his ashes."

A nod follows from Clint, so understanding, that it flips Bucky's stomach. He turns back to the stove, focuses on the eggs and not on the burn of memories.

"How about we do your tree today, and then you come over to do ours tomorrow?" Clint asks, and that's the best idea Bucky's ever heard.

~

Clint settles down against the wall next to Bucky, hands over the cup of hot chocolate he's brought over. They sip their drinks as they watch Nat and Stevie engrossed in hushed conversation at the coffee table in the middle of the living room. They've been particularly quiet today, and it's a bit alarming, even though the post-lunch sluggishness has caught onto them all. At least Nick's called to let Clint know he's closing the range until after New Year's and Clint is incredibly grateful about that. It's going to be less pay, but spending time with Nat trumps everything.

"I hope the power doesn't go out," Bucky says as they listen to the wind still howling outside.

Offering an agreeing hum, Clint leans back. "You really need furniture," he says.

Bucky huffs with a small laugh.

"And more tree things," he waves his mug toward the sparsely decorated tree.

"We've got two more boxes in the garage," Bucky says with a head shake, "but Stevie choses what he wants in the tree, says it's art."

"Nat wants to be a ballerina."

"So that's why Stevie was suddenly so interested in dancing," Bucky laughs, and it pulls Clint along.

"Daddy, can we wrap the presents now?"

Nat's voice comes from way too near, and Bucky startles to see her next to him. Clint laughs harder, patting his back.

~

"Aaaaaayeeeee!" Stevie yells while running around the coffee table after Nat, who takes over the loud shouting when Stevie runs out of breath. They're both wearing towel capes, Nat flips hers like wings and Stevie alternates between mimicking a sword and a bow.

Clint's laughing uncontrollably, even though he's pressing his palms against his ears. Bucky tries not to shake too much as he films the whole thing with his phone.

With a lunge, Stevie tackles Nat onto the pillows littering the floor, and tickles her until her giggles turn into surrendering shrieks.

"Give back the hearts you've stolen, dragon!" he says with a dramatic pointing of a finger.

"I just stole them 'cos I was lonely," Nat spreads her arms wide.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you," Stevie returns with a part to her cheek, and she grins at him.

They recover the loot from beneath the coffee table, all of Bucky's ties mangled together in a big ball, and Bucky can't really find it in himself to feel sorry for those. He keeps chuckling with Clint, trying not to be obvious while filming. The kids proceed to hang the ties everywhere they can, giving back the hearts of things, one to the tree, another to Stevie's favorite red firetruck on the shelves, one for each kitchen chair, even the stairway banister gets its own tie.

They've got four left when they trudge closer to where Clint and Bucky are sitting underneath one of the living room windows.

"You gotta share," Nat says, giving one tie to Clint.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Clint returns. "But why share, you got three more there," he adds with a tip of his head towards the bunch still held tightly by Stevie.

"For our mommies and papa," Stevie says and Nat nods solemnly.

"You gotta share yours," she repeats, and Stevie elbows her. "We don't mind."

And then they're off again.

"Still hits me hard every time they mention them," Clint whispers, straightening out the tie on his crossed legs.

But Bucky can't answer, because all words are stuck in his throat and his eyes are blurry. Next to him, Clint is quiet for a few beats, but then he shifts, leans into Bucky.

"If you cry right now, I'll bawl too, and it's gonna be ugly. I mean the whole nine yards, blotching, snot, so much snot, you have no idea."

It draws a huff out of Bucky, and he tries to blink it away, focuses on the warmth Clint presses into his side.

"Let's not do this in front of them," comes next, and Bucky nods.

"Later then," he rasps.

"Yeah," Clint breathes, taking his hand, and Bucky squeezes it.

~

The blizzard doesn't let out by the time they tuck the kids in, and they take turns showering before sliding in bed in a repeat of the previous evening. Bucky turns on his side, watching Clint's profile against the soft light coming in from the street.

Six years ago, this man has felt the same agony Bucky did, at the same time, across the country. It's baffling, the connection he's feeling toward Clint, the way Clint just knows things without Bucky having to explain them, and without judgment. Bucky's had enough of well meaning people telling him how he should feel. Clint though, he gets it, he's lived through it, still does and forever will, just like Bucky.

So he takes a chance, shifts closer. Clint's arm comes to wrap around Bucky's shoulders without pause, and Bucky snuggles in, resting his head on Clint's shoulder.

He falls asleep holding tightly onto Clint, with Clint's fingers carding through his hair and a low hummed melody rumbling though Clint's chest.

~


	8. Stockings [Dec 22nd]

Clint's house is more homey than Bucky's, but then again Bucky hasn't lived in his as long as Clint's lived here. After breakfast, they've let the kids convince them to do another sleepover, so Bucky had packed a change of clothes for him and Stevie. At least Clint has a big sofa, but that thought is a little disappointing.

The first part of the day is spent outside, flopping through the thick layer of new snow, but then it's time to decorate the tree. And for this one, there's so much bickering between Nat and Stevie, that Bucky is afraid he's going to have to separate them physically a couple of times. The kids never turn mean toward each other, though. Aside from a few pouts and dramatic eye rolls, they're quite mild. Clint is much more amused than Bucky.

"You worry too much," he says, and Bucky pokes at his shoulder.

"I just don't want them to stop being friends," he admits, and receives an one armed hug for it.

It lacks the awkwardness of newness between them. Even as they've woken tangled in each other this morning, it has felt so natural, that it hasn't caused one hitch in the start of their day.

"You don't have stockings?" Nat screeches, and it's so loud, it makes Bucky wince. It's two settings with her, either enough to be heard a couple of towns over, or complete and utter silence. "Where do you put your presents?"

They've already had the Santa conversation a couple of years back, and Bucky would have liked to wait, but Stevie is sometimes too observant for his own sake. Clint's told him Nat caught him with presents, and the gig was up even before it started. The kids still enjoy all the Christmas Santa shows, anyway.

"Under the tree!" Stevie responds just as loudly.

"Aw, no," Clint mock gasps and Bucky elbows him, but that only causes Clint to pull him closer.

"Daddy, we have to make them stockings," Nat turns to Clint.

There's laughter and chaos and pricking of fingers, but they're soon huddled around the coffee table with red cloth and white thread.

"What," Clint says when Bucky raises an eyebrow at the extensive sewing supplies Clint's pulled out of nowhere."We perform at the summer carnival every year, and we make our own costumes."

"I'm Robin Hood," Nat chippers from the side, "I have a bow and a hat with a feather!" and that snaps Stevie's head up from where he's sitting on Clint's knees.

Clint's been so patient teaching Stevie how to sew, that Bucky's cheeks are already starting to hurt from all the smiling. Of course, his fingers have more punctures than Stevie's but that's ok. At Nat's words, he can already feel it coming, so he's not surprised by the pleading look Stevie turns to him.

"I can teach him if you want," Clint offers before Stevie can speak, and Bucky's agreeing instantly.

"Yeah, thanks," he says, and the bright wonder settling on Stevie's face is all worth it. "I took a year of ballet in college," Bucky adds quickly with a cough against his fist, "I can help you find a school for Nat."

Clint smiles at him with a nod, and Bucky hopes Nat hasn't caught on to his words, but given the way she's staring at him with mouth open in an 'o' it's already too late. He closes his eyes against the following shriek before getting a mouthful of red curls as Nat lounges at him.

"Tell me everything," she yells right in his ear.

Across the table, Clint laughs, shoulders shaking, while Stevie grins, flailing his bandaid covered fingers.

"Dad knows all the dances," he says, and manages to smack Clint right over the mouth.

It's Bucky's turn to laugh with relish.

~

Clint is entirely too reluctant as he spreads the sheet over the sofa, but he can't find a good excuse to have Bucky sleep in the same bed. Last night has been so damn relaxing, with Bucky's weight against him and his warmth in Clint's arms. He's already addicted, and he's been hoping to find a reason to spend tonight with Bucky as well. Especially tonight.

"Wha'ch you doing?" Nat asks as she looks over the back of the sofa.

"Making the bed for Bucky."

"Not sleeping with you anymore?" she asks and Clint is definitely imagining the disappointment.

"No, sweetheart," he shakes his head.

"Are you upset with him?"

"No," Clint answers again with a smile, and he leans closer to kiss her cheek. "When there are enough beds, adults will sleep separately," he adds as an explanation, because it's really easy for kids to misunderstand, and he doesn't want Nat to think he's not getting along with Bucky.

She considers this information with slow blinks, but then she nods. "Can I have some juice?"

"You just brushed your teeth," Clint counters.

"Please, I'll brush again, promise," she returns, swinging around her middle over the back of the sofa.

"Knock yourself out," Clint waves with a sigh.

He watches her from the corner of his eye as he finishes with the sheet, and she doesn't spill one drop as she pours into a glass. They had practiced this for weeks.

But then, it's beyond Clint how she's managed to dump it all on the couch when he's gone to get a pillow. He scratches his head as he stands next to Bucky, staring at the large sticky puddle seeping into the cushions.

"Sorry," Nat says, empty glass in her hand, head down, but Clint doesn't have it in him to be upset, because now he has a reason to have Bucky close during the night.

"You're helping me clean that up tomorrow," he says anyway, because everything has consequences, and Nat needs to learn that.

"Yes, daddy," she mutters.

"I made her spill," Stevie says as he rounds the sofa to take Nat's hand.

Clint exchanges a long look with Bucky, because they both know Stevie wasn't even in the room until half a minute ago. Bucky shrugs with raised eyebrows.

"Then you're both cleaning it up tomorrow," Bucky tells them. He gets mumbled agreements. "Off to bed," he waves toward the stairs, and turns to Clint when they're out of earshot. "Gotta appreciate the solidarity, though."

With a laugh, Clint bumps Bucky's shoulder.

"Well," he sighs, "you can either sleep in juice, or join me."

There's a pause, a really tiny one, but it still makes Clint's heart flutter in his chest.

"I like you better than juice," Bucky laughs, and Clint shivers.

~

Sleep doesn't comes as easily, though, and they talk about Tasha and Steve well into the night, until sobs replace the words, and the remembrance of them turns into memories of pain. It's liberating instead of weighing Clint down, like crying usually does.

A couple of hours after midnight finds them sitting on the padded sill of the living room window, Tasha's favorite spot in the entire house. They're passing a mug of tea back and forth, and of course Clint would run out right now, but Bucky seems to enjoy sharing the drink.

"Spend tomorrow with me again," Clint says before nerves can make him back out.

Bucky blinks fast at him. "Really?" he rasps, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

Biting his lip, Clint nods his head slowly, and a smile forms fully on Bucky's face.

"On the 24th Tony and Pepper have their Christmas party. Well, it's more of a dinner while the kids run around eating too much candy and playing video games," Clint adds. "You and Stevie should come with us."

And maybe it's too much, too soon, because Bucky is silent for a few beats. But then his smile wides. "I'd love to, and I don't think Stevie'll be opposed to it. You sure they won't mind the extras?"

Clint nudges Bucky's foot with his own. "Nah, Pepper's been talking about you for months, everyone's pretty curious by now."

"Has she," Bucky raises both eyebrows.

"Oops," Clint winces. "But yeah, you've made an impression for some reason."

Bucky shrugs. "It's either the Barnes charms, or the uncombed hair," he jokes with an exaggerated wink.

"It's the hair," Clint quips and takes another mouthful of tea before passing the mug over.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, very soft to the touch," he returns and it's too dark to be sure, but Clint thinks there's a flush on Bucky's cheeks, and his heart pounds against his ribs.

~


	9. Mistletoe [Dec 23rd]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's not beta'd. I write, I post, and there might be errors and weird phrasings. If you notice anything that's irking and stuff, let me know, I don't mind! Or just read through the mistakes :D *hides*
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, I appreciate all the support, and it's what motivates me to write. :)

With a deep inhale, Bucky snaps awake. Morning light is coming in from the window in a white veil, and Bucky needs a few blinks before he gets used to it. Clint is sprawled half on top of him, head on Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky runs his fingers through Clint's hair, trying to chase sleep away. He has a niggling feeling of apprehension and he can't quite put his finger on it.

Next to him, Clint shifts, but burrows closer with a sniff, and Bucky continues the caresses. Contentment swirls around him, the minutes trickling away slowly. This never happens, not today, not after what yesterday usually means and all the hurt it brings every year. But right now Bucky feels soothed.

He's let every wound resurface during the night, showing Clint his vulnerabilities, and Clint has taken them gently, then offered the same in return. It's created a connection between them that will be impossible to erase, even if they never try to build a romantic relationship with each other. This will last, and the feeling of not being alone anymore tightens pleasantly inside his chest.

Clint shifts again, burying his face in Bucky's t-shirt.

"Something's wrong," he mumbles, and Bucky smiles at the way his words slur with sleepiness.

"You feel it, too?"

Another string of sounds comes from Clint, but this time too incomprehensible. Bucky blinks at the ceiling, trying to find the origin of this peculiar sensation. He looks around the room once more, the window, the dresser, the clock... oh.

"It's too quiet," he says, "and it's already ten."

Clint's head snaps up and he squints his eyes against the light. But then he lies back down, pushing his face in the space between Bucky's neck and his shoulder. It draws a light chuckle out of Bucky, and he squeezes Clint closer.

If he keeps really still and listens very very carefully, he can make out the soft sounds of the TV downstairs. The volume must be turned way low, though, and he appreciates the kids not waking them up at the crack of dawn. So he doesn't hurry to get out of bed, revels in this warmth a little longer.

"Morning," Clint says after a while, breath tickling Bucky's skin.

"Morning," he returns. "How'd you sleep?"

Clint sniffs with a half-grunt. "Better."

Yeah, that says a lot, and Bucky wraps both arms around him, holds tightly, pleased that Clint presses into him just as much.

"I wanna thank you for last night," he says, and Clint leans back to look at him, lifts himself on an elbow.

"Nuh-gh," Clint shakes his head. "Thank you."

His words are barely formed as they come out from his lips, and Bucky huffs with laughter. "You're really not awake yet, are you?"

"Pft," Clint lets out, followed by a groan, before he flops back down with his face on Bucky's chest.

"Let's get some coffee in you, then," Bucky says with another quick squeeze.

Clint follows with eyes half closed, but he doesn't complain, holding onto Bucky's arm as they climb down the stairs. It's amazing, how natural it all feels.

~

"You know you're gonna have to get that dry cleaned," Bucky says as he stands cross armed next to Clint, watching the kids clumsily wipe the sofa cushion from across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen.

"Yeah," Clint sighs, "but this is a lesson."

Bucky agrees with a nod.

"So what are our plans today?" Clint asks as he takes a seat, and Bucky follows suit.

"I need groceries, for one," he says, "and usually me and Stevie make a cake. Chocolate, cherries. Interested?"

"Sounds good. Should get groceries, too," Clint returns with a scratch of his chin, but then he's silent for a long while, half a frown on his forehead and Bucky wants to smooth it out. "Listen, Bucky," Clint starts.

Bucky's face falls because that serious tone is never followed by something pleasant, but he forces out a "yeah?"

"I was wondering," Clint continues, catching Bucky's sleeve between his thumb and his index fingers, "I was... I'd like us to spend the rest of the holidays together, if you're willing?"

His eyes are shaded in a mix of green and blue in the gray winter light filling the space, and there's hope in them, the same one that mirrors Bucky's own. He covers Clint's hand, gives it a squeeze.

"Sure," he says, genuine smile dancing on his lips.

But Clint gives him a pointed look. "I mean sleepovers and all."

"Yes, please," Bucky breathes, smile widening.

Clint lets out a relieved huff of laughter, and leans into the counter as he grips at Bucky's hand right back. "Then, how about tonight at your place, and tomorrow here since it's closer to Pepper and Tony's?"

"Sounds good," Bucky says, a twinge of excitement running through him. "Gonna have to haul all the presents back here tomorrow."

"And the cake," Clint grins.

"You're helping me clean up the kitchen afterwards."

"Aw, no," Clint returns, sticking out his lower lip, and that explains where Nat's got her pout.

~

There's a lot less mess left over Bucky's kitchen counters after they finally finish assembling the cake. It tilts on the side, crumbling a bit at the edges, but the kids have been so proud of it, Clint finds himself grinning constantly. They're now waiting for it to cool in the fridge before the first bite, and that's a really good exercise in patience, Clint figures. He's just finished washing the dishes they've used, when Stevie pops back up next to him. Nat, the little devil, has been teaching him how to sneak up on people, and Clint shakes his head internally. Stevie's chewing on his lower lip as he looks up at Clint.

"Sup, little guy?"

"'m not little," Stevie says immediately, but then he looks around, all the way behind himself, as if to make sure nobody else is around.

Clint holds in his amusement, curiosity piqued, and when Stevie waves him closer, he crouches down. He's surprised when he finds himself with an armful, Stevie's arms wrapped around his neck.

"Thank you for making daddy not sad anymore," comes next, words all out in one exhale.

He also gets a peck to the cheek, and Clint closes his eyes, hugs Stevie closer.

"Aw, baby, you're welcome," he says, but his voice breaks.

"'m not a baby," Steve returns automatically.

"Of course you aren't," Clint huffs, letting go.

He busies himself with straightening Stevie's jumper on him, as he tries to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. If even the kid's noticed... which makes him wonder just how sad their days have been. Perhaps just as much as Clint's. If it were up to him, he'd make sure it's kept to a minimum.

Stevie straightens, pleased smile on his face, before taking Clint's hand.

~

"Right there," Nat says, eying Bucky critically as he shifts the mistletoe over the living room door.

"All right," and he tapes the branch to the frame.

"Come on," Stevie's voice comes from the hallway, and Bucky turns to see him dragging Clint along.

He stops near, and then pushes at Clint until he's under the mistletoe next to Bucky.

"Now you have to smooch," Nat claps her hands.

Stevie nods from where he's huddled close to her, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

"Is that right?"

"Yeeees!" both kids say, big eyes blinking up at them.

When Bucky looks at Clint, there's an amused smile on his lips, but he isn't moving away, his gaze soft. Bucky's heart flutters in his chest.

"I think we just got played," he tells Clint.

Twin giggles drift to his ears, but Bucky can't look away, entirely captivated as Clint gives a small shrug, eyelashes hooding his eyes. Bucky wants this, and Clint seems to want this, so he takes a deep breath.

"I'm ready to smooch," he breathes. "You?"

Clint's throat bobs as he swallows, and he nods. "Yeah, definitely ready," Clint rasps, understanding of what Bucky's asking.

He doesn't stop the smile that pulls at him, pleased that Clint returns it, and then they're both leaning in, the motion natural and fluid. The touch of their lips is short and light, but it leaves Bucky's entire body covered in goosebumps, and he shivers.

The shrieks that follow startle him, and Bucky laughs. Clint's fingers come to run over the side of Bucky's face for a moment, and then he turns to the kids.

"Guys," Clint says, crouching down to pat their heads, "can you go play upstairs for a little bit? Bucky and I need to have a grown-up talk."

Nat and Stevie comply, happy smiles on their faces, and they're making way too much noise as they rush off. Clint sits then, leaning against the door frame, and Bucky slides down, matching his position. It's a tight fit, as they face each other, legs tangled, but it feels more intimate than anything, and Bucky reaches over to take Clint's hand in his own.

He lets Clint play with his fingers for a while, watching Clint's pensive face. Bucky has things to say, but he waits Clint out first.

"We can't screw this up," Clint finally says, looking towards the stairs.

Bucky lets out a relieved huff, nodding promptly. "My thoughts exactly," he returns and Clint hums in agreement.

"I think it's safe to assume they want us together," Clint chuckles.

Bucky smiles at him, then pulls at his hand to press a kiss to Clint's fingers. Silence settles between them once more, and Bucky finds himself nervous. There's an important bit they need to settle first, and he exhales slowly. He opens his mouth, words suddenly stuck to his throat.

"Hey," Clint says quietly, intertwining their fingers, "anything you have to say, I'm listening."

Bucky swallows heavily, nods in thanks.

"I..." he draws air in, "you have to keep loving her, because I'll always love him," he breathes. "That will never change," he looks right into Clint's eyes, and is met with agreement as Clint nods along. "But I can love you, too," he adds as Clint's other hand comes up to caress the side of Bucky's head, "and it's gonna be different, you and me, right?"

"Right," Clint rasps, fingers wrapping onto the back of Bucky's neck.

"I don't want us to forget them," he continues, and goes easily when Clint brings their foreheads together. "I wanna know all about her," he closes his eyes, "and tell you all about him," he clutches at Clint's knee with his free hand.

"Yeah," comes back, and it sounds wet.

"Don't cry, silly," Bucky breathes, and moves to kiss at Clint's damp cheeks.

A huff that's half sob follows, and Clint squeezes his hand tighter. "But this is why we'll make it work, see," he says and leans back to look at Bucky, eyes bright.

"I can't believe I just met you nine days ago," Bucky huffs.

Clint laughs heartily at that, shoulders shaking. "Man, you really wanted that tree."

"Well, ye--"

And Clint's lips are on his again, hot and lingering.

Bucky can't wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the day, and it's contagious enough to keep the kids giggling at them all through dinner.

~

Bucky's already under the covers when Clint ambles in, wiping his face with a towel. He shifts awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to deal with this new thing between them. But then Bucky extends a hand.

"Just sleep," he whispers.

Clint's shoulders slump, and he drops the towel on the back of a chair before taking Bucky's hand.

"No making out like teenagers?" he jokes.

"We can do that," Bucky pulls him closer.

His smile is addictive, so full of life, that it keeps sending pleasant pangs through Clint's chest.

They're both out like a light the moment they snuggle close together, Clint's arms around Bucky's shoulders, Bucky's nose pushed against Clint's collarbone.

Tasha winks at him, as he drifts off, a happy smile on her lips.

~


	10. The Party [Dec 24th]

Between the kids being excited for the incoming party and the promise of sweets and video games, Bucky hasn't had much private time with Clint. But throughout the day, Clint's kept close, touching Bucky with gentle fingers, a brush to his hair, a pat to his shoulder, a squeeze of his hand, and Bucky hasn't been able to stop the smile firmly settled on his lips. Stevie's been really loud and bright as well, a lot happier than in the past years around Christmas. Bucky's beyond grateful for that.

"Prepare for staying up all night with kids pumped full of sugar," Clint says as they walk up to Pepper and Tony's door.

The party is smaller than Bucky's expected. The house is furnished stylishly, but the walls of the hallways are filled with photographs of their previous classes and a lot of clumsy drawings in all the colors possible. Tony takes great pleasure in walking Bucky through it. Aside from their hosts, there's an eclectic group of people, all Clint's friends, and Bucky's feeling really welcome among them right off the bat.

First, Tony and Pepper have been friends of Tasha and Clint's since highschool, along with Jane, who's a scientist now, and Rhodey 'my name's actually James' who's an Air Force colonel. Jane's husband, Thor, is there, too, and apparently he's a writer working from home, which makes him the resident neighborhood babysitter when Pepper or Tony are not at home. Bucky spends over an hour bemoaning the intricacies of publishing with Thor before Tony complains that Thor's hogging up the new guy. Jane and Thor have a little girl, Darcy, who's now in fifth grade. She insists she's too old for video games until Nat calls her a whimp and then they're fast engaged in the worst tandem shrieking at the monitor Bucky's ears have ever heard.

Rhodey isn't married, but he's here with his boyfriend, Sam, who's in service as well. Sam gets a really intensive and barely veiled interrogation from Clint's boss, Nick. The man is imposing, retired Navy, with a permanent frown on his forehead, but that doesn't seem to bother anyone. Pepper tells Bucky she's been trying to set him up with Phil, the principal of their school, apparently there's a spark there. Clint insists he's staying out of it, but Bucky's pretty sure he's rooting for the two to get together. Nick's daughter, Maria, is on leave, following in her dad's footsteps. She's a lot younger than Clint, but just as scary as Nick. Phil is a foster parent, and he's got a clumsy bundle of a five year old little boy following him everywhere. His name's Scott, and he's only shy until Stevie shoves a video controller at him.

The oldest kids there are Betty and Bruce, both fourteen. Betty's father is a general, always busy with work, and she's staying with Pepper and Tony while he's out of town. She's quite cheery for having lost her mother a few years back, and Clint tells Bucky Pepper's been like a balm to her. Then, there's Bruce, with a deep scowl on his face, quiet and morose, but Bucky can't fault him when he hears his story, losing both parents after hard years of enduring his father's rage. Clint tells him Tony's already started the paperwork for his adoption. Bruce sticking to Betty like duct tape, and Tony has a running bet with Pepper on when those two are going to become an item.

They're a mismatched bunch with various degrees of loss behind them, and Bucky feels weirdly comforted and connected to them.

The kids are yelling at the games in the room Tony's got especially set up, with sofas and pillows everywhere, stacks of games on the floor, overflowing shelves all around the walls, and the most impressive collection of consoles Bucky's ever seen. No wonder Nat's been so excited about this.

The rest of the adults are milling around the space between the living and dining rooms. There's a large table set up with too much candy, gingerbread and cake, a few salads and other snacks, but no one is actually eating there, just carrying plates and glasses everywhere. It's a little chaotic, but Bucky likes the familiar feeling the evening gives. There's no alcohol, though, even the champagne is a fruity bubbly kids' drink, and Clint tells him it's a long story, but Bucky's not much of a drinker himself. He's at the point where half a glass of wine puts him to sleep, and judging by the way Stevie's still running around at full speed at midnight, he's got a long night ahead of him.

He smiles at Clint from across the room when a clearing throat right next to his ear startles him, and he twists to see Nick standing there, wide shoulders drawn up, hands behind his back and chin raised. Bucky turns back to watch where Clint and Maria are engaged in a game of throwing candy into empty glasses.

"My sources tell me," Nick says, "that your contract expires in two years."

"So?" he returns, a lot less surprised by the nosing about in his private matters than he should be.

Nick gives a hum. "You tell me."

It brings a smile to Bucky's lips, and he shakes his head. "Clint's told me you and Phil took him and his friends under your wing when they were young and wild."

"Psh," Nick huffs, "the damn rascals almost burned half the block down."

Clint gives them a weary look from across the room and Bucky waves at him.

"I have a good reason to stay," he offers. It's warming, how Clint's being cared about, how Bucky's already considered a serious enough presence in their lives to warrant an interrogation. He feels a lot more sympathy for Sam now.

Nick regards him, eyes hard for long moments, but Bucky's got nothing to hide.

"All right, enough," Phil says as he approaches, pulls at Nick's arm. "You're only allowed one per evening."

With a purse of his lips, Nick turns his sharp look at Phil. "And who put you in charge of counting?"

"Don't make me drag your ass outside for a chat again," Phil answers, unperturbed.

"Only way to drag my ass is kicking and screaming."

"Yes, yes, now leave the nice boy alone," Phil adds with a wink Bucky's way, but Nick follows him with a hum and more grumbling.

Yeah, Bucky sees it now, how they sound like a long married couple. Maybe Pepper's not all that off anyway.

Clint finds him a little while later, and he takes a seat next to Bucky on the sofa.

"Having fun?" he asks, taking his hand between them.

"Yeah," Bucky offers with a smile, squeezes his fingers.

Clint yawns in his fist. "Whoa," he says, blinking fast.

"Getting old there, Barton," Tony quips from behind them.

With a roll of his eyes, Clint leans his head back to look at Tony and Bucky follows his gaze. Tony looks weirdly serious. It makes Clint turn fully around.

"What's up?"

Tony sighs before leaning closer with his forearms on the backrest of the sofa.

"How long..." he says, moving his fingers between Clint and Bucky.

Clint blinks and Bucky frowns, but when Clint looks at him questioningly, he shrugs. He doesn't mind Clint's friends knowing, this is not something he wants hidden, on the contrary.

"Since yesterday," Bucky says, and it earns him another one of Clint's gentle smiles, the one that softens his eyes and drives Bucky's heart into pounding.

"Ha!" Tony shouts, straightening up, arms raised. "In your face," he points at Pepper, "less than twenty four hours!"

Pepper gapes from where she's been talking to Rhodey. "Clint!"

"Technically, it's already over thirty hours," Clint corrects.

"I knew it," Pepper beams and Tony pouts. "I win," she adds, and gets an amused one armed hug from Rhodey.

"Traitors, all of you," Tony points to Clint, Bucky, then Rhodey.

"What'd you lose?" Clint asks.

"Gotta clean this all up tomorrow," he sighs.

Bucky chuckles, which he tries to cover, but Clint laughs fully, before pressing his mirth onto Bucky's lips in a quick peck. He then proceeds to list all the current running bets among the group, with Tony's added commentary. It's a sort of fun Bucky hasn't had in years.

~

When they're finally back at Clint's, it's already nearing three, and they carry the sleeping kids upstairs to tuck them in. They take the time to put out presents in the stockings hanging on the wall, then arrange the larger packages under the tree. Soon after, they slide under the covers themselves.

"Had a good time tonight?" Clint asks quietly as he curls up facing Bucky, heads close together on the same pillow.

"It was great," he says, pulling Clint closer until they're snuggled tightly, legs entangled.

"I'm glad," Clint returns and Bucky presses his smile onto Clint's forehead. With a content sigh, Clint runs his hand over Bucky back until he can caress the back of Bucky's head. "All that's missing is making out like teenagers," he grins.

And then he's kissing Bucky, slow and easy, lips sliding onto each other, like they've always belonged locked in this gentle touch. Bucky finds himself drifting off, and he chuckles.

"I'm so damn sleepy..."

Clint laughs against his lips. "I know, me too."

Bucky doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes up with a smile still on his face.

~


	11. Family Dinner [Dec 25th]

On the bright side, the kids have only woken up at around eleven. On the less brighter side, they've trampled in Clint's bedroom loudly, then stomped on his and Bucky's ribs all excited about presents. On the brightest side, though, Bucky's been smiling between pecking at his lips in a way that's making butterflies swirl in his belly, and it's been a long while since he's felt that. And after all of this, if it's even possible, Bucky's an actual angel, being so patient with Clint's morning sleepiness, feeding the kids and offering him amazing coffee with a smile.

He sinks into the sofa holding the hot mug with a content sigh next to Bucky, and they watch the kids cataloging the presents carefully, discussing what to open up first. Bucky wraps an arm around his shoulders, leaning into Clint with a kiss to his temple, and Clint is swimming in warmth.

The presents for Tasha and Steve and Peggy are carefully placed further back under the tree, and Clint watches with Bucky's fingers running through his hair. But then, the kids decide they want to open each other's presents, and it's a set of hair pins in the colors of the rainbow from Stevie to Nat, and an arm guard for Stevie from her. Clint's checked with Bucky beforehand, adding a child's bow and other equipment for Stevie to Nat's present. Bucky's bought both kids a pair of matching electronic photo frames that they can both use to load any pictures they want, and they spend a lot of time poking at those. The bow gets special attention, while Nat showers Stevie with her knowledge of archery, and it's almost afternoon by the time the kids crawl over to give Clint and Bucky their sets of gloves. They manage to act surprised, but end up laughing way too hard as they move to the kitchen to get dinner ready. They're decided to stay in, and they have a list of dishes both Clint and Bucky have had a tradition of making at Christmas.

~

Bucky hums as he tastes the sauce for the chicken that's cooking in the oven between veggies, something Steve's always been crazy about. It doesn't hurt to prepare it this year. Instead, it aches gently with the thought of sharing this with Clint and Nat. At the counter, Clint's been chopping beets in small cubes, and Bucky's skeptical that Clint's going to convince the kids to eat those. He tells him as much, but gets a smirk and a wink in return.

He's peeling the shells off of the eggs he's just boiled when Clint taps at his arm.

"This is for you," Clint says as he extends a small package, about as large as his palm, less thicker than a finger, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

"You didn't have to," Bucky waves, and Clint pushes it at Bucky's chest with an eye roll. "I didn't get you anything."

"Just take it already," Clint huffs.

Bucky wipes his hands and grabs it, starts unwrapping it at Clint's impatient roll of hand. It's a small notepad, but it's filled with... all the air rushes out of Bucky's lungs with a gasp.

When he looks up, Clint's grinning at him, all smugly pleased, and Bucky wraps himself around him, squeezing so tightly that Clint lets out a small 'ow' with a laugh.

"I don't know what to say," Bucky rasps as he lets go, leafs through the pages again.

The thing is filled with contact information for anything he might need for Stevie, from nearby dentists to supply stores, to playgrounds and hobby school for kids. But beside that, every place has added commentary from Clint with his impressions on the people there, things that are incredibly useful to Bucky.

"You don't have to say anything," Clint returns and turns the notepad around to show Bucky the last page. "Everyone's numbers are in here, call any one of them at any time."

Bucky inhales, swallows past the lump in his throat with a nod.

"Pepper, Tony, and Thor are your best bet for child related things, Phil and Nick are your second choices. Jane's usually too busy, but as a last resort..." Clint waves, "Rhodey's only here on leave, so he can't help if it's an emergency."

"I should give them mine," Bucky manages as he takes in the information.

Clint snorts. "I'm sure Pepper's already got that covered."

It makes Bucky laugh. "Thank you," he says, pulling Clint closer, "you have no idea how much this means."

"Yeah, yeah I do," Clint returns, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck.

And Bucky reckons he really does, having Nat as a single parent. So he squeezes Clint tightly again, pushes his face into the side of his neck. They stay like that for a long while, until the oven beeps, Nat runs between their legs, Stevie chases her, and they almost fall on their asses.

~

"Daddy, can I have your phone?" Nat asks from where she's sitting across from Clint and Bucky, next to Stevie.

"What for?"

"I want to take pictures," she drums her little fingers on the red table cloth.

"Of what?"

"Smeeewwwches," she giggles and Stevie laughs into his hand.

Clint raises both eyebrows, looking between her and Bucky questioningly.

"Well, I don't know," Bucky says, "you gotta convince us to smooch, too. I mean," he waves over his head, "there's no mistletoe here."

Nat squints his eyes at him. "You did without mistletoe earlier, we saw," and Stevie nods next to her.

"I dunno," Bucky mimics pondering, "if I use all my energy on smooches, who's going to clean all this up?" he waves at the table.

Clint can barely contain the chuckles, but he forces himself to keep a straight face, as Nat chews on her lip, considering. A few seconds later, Stevie leans over to whisper in her ear, and Clint can see the exact moment her eyes brighten.

"We can do it," Stevie declares.

"But you're so short," Bucky pats at Stevie's head, "how are you going to reach the sink?"

Stevie gives Bucky the best pout Clint's ever seen, even on Nat, and Bucky snickers next to him.

"Aw, come on, give the kids their smooch," Clint concedes with a laugh, sliding his phone toward Nat on the table.

"Come on, dad," Stevie adds while Nat pokes at the phone.

She gives them a bright, wide grin as she raises the phone with both hands.

"Fine, fine," Bucky concedes, palms raised.

He plants a very noisy, long smooch on Clint's cheek that tickles so much, it makes Clint yelp. Nat is giggling so hard across the table, that her shoulders are shaking, and Clint finds himself smiling, especially since Bucky adds a gentle peck to his temple.

That's the shot left on the phone, taken by Stevie while Nat's been busy sliding under the table, limbs askew. Clint loves the kid already.

~

Bucky pulls the covers up around Nat while Stevie's taking his turn with brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

"Mr. Bucky?" she asks, pulling at his sleeve with a frown.

"What is it?" Bucky sits on the edge of the bed.

She blinks a few times before straightening up, still holding onto his sleeve.

"Please marry my daddy."

Bucky is so shocked, that he doesn't really react outwardly, while being hit with the realization that he would very much like to spend his days like this, the four of them together.

"Please." Nat's voice is softer, her eyebrows knitting with worry on her forehead.

But they've just started this thing between them, it's not something to consider yet, even though Bucky can see them heading towards that place in the future.

"He's not crying anymore," she adds, lower lip trembling, and Bucky shakes himself.

He runs a thumb over her cheek, gives her a smile.

"I'd love to do that," he whispers, and her face brightens. "But you have to be patient," he continues. "It takes a long time to get married. Do you understand what I'm saying, sweetheart?"

He waits for her to consider what he's said, and finally she nods, eyes wide.

"Me and your daddy will need to spend a lot of time together before that, yeah?"

Nat nods fast, red curls bouncing off her shoulders.

"And afterwards, if we become really good friends, we can talk about getting married."

"You'll be bestest friends," she says immediately, lounging at him. "Like me and Stevie."

Bucky hugs her close, rubbing her back with a small huff of laughter.

"I really hope so, sweetie."

~


	12. Beginnings [Dec 26th]

It's five minutes past midnight when Bucky and Clint finally manage to finish up with the dishes, then take a shower each. Bucky runs his hands through his hair before tying it back, as he sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for Clint. It's not long before the door to the bathroom opens, and Clint walks in, pajama pants on, but t-shirt in hand, that he drops on the dresser on his way to Bucky.

"Hi," Bucky says, taking in the way stray droplets of water are still drying on Clint's shoulders, the cut of his muscles stretched across his chest and arms.

"Hi," Clint smiles, running his fingers on Bucky's cheek. "On a scale of one to ten, how sleepy are you?" he asks.

"Hmm, about a four," Bucky says, hands settling on Clint's hips to pull him closer, "but it could be a two."

Clint laughs lightly before bending to catch Bucky's lips. He lingers, slotting their mouth together in that fitting way that sends shivers of delight through Bucky. And when he pushes Bucky's lips open, he yields easily, enjoying the feel of Clint's tongue against his own. He pulls until Clint sits on his legs, knees on the bed around him. Soon air's not enough, and they let go to catch their breaths. Clint's eyes are a dark blue in the dim light of the bedroom, and Bucky gets lost in them for a moment.

He leans back on the bed, hands on Clint's thighs, and Clint follows with a smile. He runs his fingers over Bucky's collarbones, then lower until he can push at Bucky's t-shirt over his abdomen. His palms are hot as he pushes the cloth up, and Bucky shivers. He helps Clint pull the t-shirt off, and lies back down, letting himself be caressed. Clint licks his lips before he presses another kiss to Bucky's, but then he moves lower with small pecks on the skin of his neck, down the middle of his chest. It's slow and wonderfully enticing, bringing a steady flow of want into Bucky.

But then Clint's too low, losing his balance from the edge of Bucky's knees, and Bucky lunges forward. He catches Clint at the last moment, pulls them both into the bed. They land on the mattress already laughing, and Bucky pushes his chuckles into Clint's bare skin, blows a raspberry on his belly that makes Clint squirm with a muffled yelp.

"Menace," Clint whispers before Bucky rolls over Clint to kiss him again.

He lets a hand roam down Clint's side as he holds himself up with the other, and the way Clint arches into his touch is getting him hard faster than he'd expected. But when he presses down on Clint, Bucky's pleased to find the same reaction from him, swallows his soft moan.

"I think this will be over embarrassingly fast," he breathes with a roll of his hips, and it draws a gasp out of Clint.

"Then we'll be embarrassed together," Clint returns, and pushes Bucky on his back, then fits his thigh between Bucky's legs.

He looks down Bucky's body, trailing his fingers down his chest, and Bucky shivers at the touch. When Clint pulls at the hem of his pants, he lifts his hips to help push them off.

"Yours, too," Bucky says, and Clint complies.

He lies back down a little awkwardly, but Bucky's already feeling the same thing, this moment infused in newness and excitement. So he rolls them on their sides, takes Clint's lips again until Clint shifts closer, bringing them flush together.

He rocks against Bucky, pulling a long hum out of him.

"Mhm," Clint agrees, and it makes Bucky smile against his lips.

"You feel so good, Clint," Bucky breathes.

Clint huffs with a small laugh that turns in a moan when Bucky runs his hand down his backside, pressing them tighter together. The hand Clint's been caressing his back with travels upward, and Clint frees his hair from the tie, runs his fingers through it. Bucky closes his eyes against it with a low sound. Then Clint's lips draw closer, barely touching, between gentle kisses, and Bucky can almost feel Clint's heartbeat matching his where their chests connect.

He shifts his hand between them, runs the tips of his fingers over the side of Clint's shaft where it's nestled between Bucky's own and his abdomen. Clint's mouth trembles with a sharp inhale, making Bucky hum with want. Ah, he wants, he wants Clint, now and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, at night and in the morning and sharing their meals, the bed time stories, their children's laughter.

He opens his eyes again and Clint's looking at him with the same longing interspersed with desire. Clint's thumb runs over his cheek, gaze locked onto Bucky's, his entire focus here, in this moment, as Bucky wraps his hand around both of them, squeezes gently with an upward twist of his wrist. Clint's mouth opens with a gasp, the trembling traveling through his limbs with every stroke, and Bucky shivers with him.

When it happens, their pleasure twirls around them unawares, sneaking up through them. Clint brings their mouths together again, his turn to receive Bucky's low, trembling moan.

There's a contented smile pulling at his lips despite them trying to catch their breaths, and when Clint laughs lightly against his lips, Bucky joins him.

"Wow," Clint breathes, snuggling even closer in.

Bucky hums, unable to take his eyes from the flush of Clint's cheeks, the sparkles of gray lighting up the blue of his eyes.

It's a long while before either of them moves, and Bucky winces at the mess between them. He grabs his discarded t-shirt to clean them up, and hurries to wrap himself around Clint again.

"We should get under the blanket," Clint huffs, but he makes no move to separate from Bucky.

"In a minute," Bucky mumbles.

Clint laughs, and it's an incredible sound.

~

Clint wakes up before Bucky for once, and he blinks sleepily against the morning light sifting into their bedroom. It's their third Christmas together, and Clint stretches with the memory of the night, sore in all the right places.

He runs his hand over the side of Bucky's face where he's still deep in slumber with his head on Clint's chest. Light catches on the double bands on the ring finger of his other hand, where it's wrapped around Bucky's shoulder, and Clint lifts his wrist to look at them.

He can't believe how lucky he is, finding Bucky two years ago, a soul so fitting to his own that it still sends a thrill through him, even now.

"Morning," he breathes when Bucky shifts, and he gets a slow kiss in return.

"Morning, love," Bucky says after he leans away, lifting himself on an elbow to take Clint in.

Clint's lips curl upward, like they always do at the endearment.

A crash resounds from downstairs, followed by the increasingly louder voices of the kids.

"Duty calls," Clint mumbles.

"It's your turn," Bucky laughs, and Clint whines. "Ok, ok," Bucky says with a quick kiss before rolling out of bed.

"You're the best," Clint says.

"You bet your ass I am," Bucky returns as he pulls pants on.

"I can't," Clint squirms into the heat left over from Bucky's body, while Bucky raises an amused eyebrow at him.

"And why is that?" Bucky asks, leaning back over the bed.

"My ass is already yours," he smirks, and receives the incoming kiss happily.

"You bet your ass it is," Bucky returns with a chuckle.

Clint laughs into the pillow, contentment swirling through him.

There's coffee already waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs, Nat engrossed in a serious discussion with Bucky over the merits of hair ties, and Stevie shares his slice of toast with a long suffering head shake when Clint burns his tongue on the coffee.

It's amazing, this new life. Incredibly enticing.

~End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoh! It's been a fun write, I'm glad I wrote this verse. :)
> 
> Everyone's been so supportive, it's amazing :D It will take me a while to reply to everything, but I will :) Thank you all for being with me through this fic!
> 
> Have a wonderful day there, whether you celebrate Christmas or not! o/


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